Ficlet 15: Fleeting Chance
by CloakedHestia
Summary: Because there aren't enough fics about the sardonic detective here's a Brass story looking into a possible day in his life. Takes place pretty much any time after A Bullet Runs Through It.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. Just a simple fan and writer.

A/N: Not a romantic ficlet. There aren't many Brass stories out there so here's a possible scenario between Brass and his estranged daughter Ellie. Takes place pretty much any time after A Bullet Runs Through It. Hope you enjoy.

**Ficlet 15 (ch.1): Fleeting Chance**

It was the end of the day and Brass was heading home. He was tired and disgusted - just one of those days. As he approached his house, he thought he saw a figure. He pulled in and looked around. Nothing was there.

'My eyes must be playing tricks on me,' he thought. He went inside but was a little more alert.

Sitting back, he took of his jacket and slid of his shoes. Then he sat up, 'What's that?'

With his gun drawn, he got up and headed to the side door.

"Show yourself, whoever you are," he yelled out. There was a soft rustle. He swung around. Was there someone in his house?

He felt fear creeping in, but held his ground. "LVPD! Come out, I'm armed!"

A slim shadow cast itself on the wall perpendicular to him. He crept closer, his hand on the trigger. He walked to the living room and saw-

"Ellie!"

She was discovered, "Hi dad."

"You're... what are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too," she replied sarcastically.

Brass put his gun away, "No, I mean... of course I'm glad to see you. But why are you sneaking around my house in the middle of the night? I could've shot you!"

"You're a better cop than that. After all, it was the only thing you were good at," she replied tartly.

"You're probably the only one who thinks so," Brass replied, recalling the officer he killed in 'friendly fire.' He'd rather not think about that...

"So, when did you get here? How are things?" Brass was trying to figure out why his daughter was back, but not trying to pressure her into talking, "I see you've gone back to blonde," he smiled wryly.

"Yeah. Blondes have more fun, you know," she always knew how to push his buttons.

"Right. You want something to drink?" Brass headed to the refrigerator.

"I'm good. I got in with the spare key. You know that fake rock doesn't fool anyone," she sighed and sat down.

Brass looked at her and pulled up a seat, "Are you going to be here for a while?"

She regarded him seriously before speaking, "I got your basket. Finally have time to tell you. It was... something"

He couldn't tell if she liked it or not.

"You told me once, If I ever needed something I could come and see you," she looked a little distressed.

"Is something wrong? You're not in any trouble are you?" Brass suddenly looked worried.

"No. Can't I just visit you without there being some ulterior motive?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, it's just. I've had a rough night and then you just appeared..." he trailed off.

"I understand." She stood up.

"Wait? Where are you going? Aren't you going to spend the night? You're old room is till up there."

"Fine. I guess I need some sleep."

"Great. I hope we can talk some more tomorrow," he got up and headed upstairs with a broad smile.

He didn't catch the disheartened look on her face.

He was able to sleep a nice restful sleep. He woke up a little later than he usually did. He decided to check up on Ellie. Heading for her room, he noted it was really quiet.

"Ellie? Are you awake?"

Her room was untouched. He could've sworn she was in here asleep. He saw her in bed when he went to the restroom. He walked downstairs calling her name, spying a small note on the kitchen counter he grabbed it and read it.

It was just the simple words, '_Thank you_'.In her small cursive. His weariness returned full force, and he walked back upstairs, slowly.

She had appeared like a ghost and left the same way.

---

_Very dramatic, yes but I wrote a second part to this. Stay tuned. And please review. Thank you for reading._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI. Just a simple fan and writer.

A/N: This part is slightly romantic but mostly friendship, involving Brass and Catherine. These two have many similarities that I never realized until I sat down to write this. Takes place pretty much any time after A Bullet Runs Through It.

**Ficlet 15 (ch.2): Enduring Friends**

The music was droning softly in the background, and Brass was already on his third drink. Grissom and Catherine had invited him to go out, obviously noting the sour mood he was in lately. After some useless attempts to cheer him up, they just bought some beers and sat quietly.

After twenty minutes of silence, a piercing beeper had broken the quiet, Grissom standing up apologetic and telling the two that he was needed on a decomp heavy on bugs.

He had remembered asking Catherine if she was going as well, but she declined, opting to stay with her 'friend'.

That was how they ended up there. Two half drunk crime fighters in a dim bar with karaoke droning off somewhere in the corner.

"Well, this is nice," Catherine said rather sarcastically.

"Yeah. Let's get out of here," Brass got up and paid the tab.

"You didn't have to pay for my drinks also," Catherine objected.

"Don't worry," he reassured her, "I know the guy. I just put it on my tab."

Catherine was not very reassured.

Outside, the cool night air did much to sober them up. But they still didn't trust themselves to drive, so they hailed a cab.

"So, you go to that bar often?" Catherine was not one to judge but with his gloomy mood she thought he might get the idea that he could drink his problems away.

Brass settled back in his seat, his eyes closed, "You mean do I drink a lot?" he chuckled to himself.

He dimly remembered a similar conversation he had with Sara. He was so worried about her. Then there was the problem with Ellie...

Knowing what it felt like to be on the other end kept him from snapping at Catherine.

"You wanna talk about it," she sounded a little concerned.

"Not really. At least not here," Brass sat up when he realized the taxi was already at his house.

"Alright, we'll talk about it inside."

He was definitely taken aback. He wasn't sure if heard her right, and she could tell, so she clarified, "Come on. We're going inside and we're gonna talk about it. I know you didn't want to spill anything in front of Grissom, but I'm not him, so I want to know,"

She was persistent, and after he paid the cabbie, he led her inside.

"Nice house. You live here by yourself?" She looked around with a slight smile.

"Yeah," he walked over to his couch and sat down. Catherine followed suit.

"Jim, talk to me," she said softly, reaching out her hand and tentatively touching his shoulder. "What's been going on with you?"

He didn't immediately respond but finally decided he might as well tell someone. "My daughter was here about a week ago," he didn't look up but felt her tighten her grip on his shoulder.

"She just came and left. It was a hard blow for me, you know."

Catherine nodded. She had a daughter of her own and couldn't imagine experiencing such a loss. She knew how much he cared about her and she was overwhelmed with feelings.

"You're a good father," she said softly, "And she was probably confused. Ellie... loves you in her own way. You've been nothing but kind from what I've seen, and I... would've been proud if my husband had been half as nurturing as you are."

He laughed bitterly.

"I was never there for her when she was young," suddenly he looked up and stared straight a Catherine, "Cath, don't make the same mistake I did. You have to be there for Lindsey," she was surprised but recognized the truth in his words.

"Don't end up like me..."

She got up and got him a glass of water. "I'm so sorry Jim. I'm sorry about everything... everything that's happened to you - to me." She spoke with a renewed determination. "I'm going to help you get through this. You're not alone,"

With those words, he smiled. A real, genuine smile. Brass closed his eyes - he was so tired. But he didn't have to worry if Catherine would still be there when he woke up.

---

_I'll explore Catherine and Brass' similarities further in a future ficlet. Until then, please tell me what you think. I hope it wasn't too corny to give the poor cop a sort of happy ending. He really needed it._


End file.
